


The Good Shit

by mintboy (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eggs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Meteorstuck, One Shot, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mintboy
Summary: Dave walks into the kitchen in the middle of the night to find Karkat munching on a rather unpleasant snack. And, as per usual, shit ensues.For my boyfriend.





	The Good Shit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyMotor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyMotor/gifts).



I rub my eyes, yawning. My room is too dark, and too big, and too empty. It’s just the same size as usual, I know, but in the darkness the walls feel miles away. I tangle my fingers in the sheets, throwing my head back against the pillow. The fabric of my shirt rides up my back, and I groan, flipping over. I’m used to sleeping mostly naked, but it’s colder than the apartment, here.

It’s 2:44am. I should be asleep, but my brain is fickle like time is.

I sit up again, stretching, and push myself out of bed. My godtier pajamas are discarded in the corner – as comfortable as they are, their layers are something I’ve deemed unfit for sleeping in. The shirt I’m wearing is a bit too big for me – it’s a t-shirt I alchemized at some point, and that Karkat and I had decorated with stupid doodles in sharpie. Under it I’m just wearing boxers, but it’s not like anyone will see me anyways.

I grab my shades, hooking them into the worn, u-shaped collar of the t-shirt. I don’t plan on turning on any lights – the last thing I want is to run into someone I’d rather not have a conversation with at 2am about why I can’t sleep. Being stealthy is one thing but being able to see in the pitch-black darkness is another: so, shades off it is.

Slipping out of my room, I make a bee-line for the kitchen, hoping to find something absolutely disgusting to dig int0 – and by disgusting, I mean a whole container of frosting or spaghetti seasoned with mustard, not some troll shit that’s still actively moving while being consumed. Is that racism? Probably. I stow it away in my mind to ask Karkat later. He’d totally call me racist, like that time I insulted the length of troll movie-titles.

I shuffle into the kitchen, yawning. It seems empty, when I hear the petrifying sound of a _crunch_ from somewhere on the fucking floor. I jump, flicking on the light, and hear a low, hissing growl. I let my eyes fall and adjust, and Karkat is sitting on the kitchen floor, gnawing on a raw egg.

“What the fuck,” I actually _yell_ , jumping again, this time so far that my back slams into the frame of the doorway.

Karkat blinks at me as I stare at him, my eyes wide and my arms outstretched as if to ready myself for something, though I’m not sure what. Then, he laughs. He straight up cackles at me, doubling over and pressing his clawed fingers – which are laced with egg-innards – to his chest.

“What the fuck,” I repeat, this time in a more normal – but still urgently concerned – tone, “you can’t – dude, what the fuck! You can’t fucking munch on raw ass eggs, what the hell!”

“Good evening to you too, fucker,” Karkat is still grinning, and fuck if it isn’t adorable, but he’s also holding a carton of eggs that is half empty, a carton I knew this morning to be entirely full.

“Why are you eating eggs like that,” I reply, more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

I flinch as something hits me in the chest, soaking the front of my shirt. He threw a fucking egg at me.

“I can eat eggs however the hell I want.”

I wipe the egg off of my chest, shivering. Shit’s gross as hell.

“No – that’s. You’re going to get seriously sick, dude, that’s not just a finger in the fucking cookie dough, you ate like half a carton of raw eggs that are probably swimming with weird bacteria and shit – ” I’m cut off from my rant as he takes a bite of another egg, just crunching on the shell and swallowing it. The inside of the egg drips down his hand and onto his sleeve.

“Holy fuck, man, what the _actual hell_ ,” I rub a hand down my face.

Karkat laughs again.

“I’m not going to get sick, Dave,” he rolls his eyes, standing up and walking towards me. He takes the egg carton with him. I make a face.

“Yeah, I have a weak human body and the eggs can’t hurt your superior immune system, I get it,” I say, flatly, “are you fucking doing this to spite me? One too many bucket jokes and Karkat snaps and starts eating eggs at 2am?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Karkat lifts another egg, and as I flinch, he lets out a little laugh of disbelief, both of his eyebrows raising in a glance that’s too charming to be legal, “holy shit, do you really hate eggs that much?”

“I hate the fact that you’re munching on them like chips, dude, it’s fucking gross! I like an omelet every once in a while, but not seeing someone just take a bite out of a raw ass egg!”

“This is hilarious,” Karkat announces.

“I’m going back to bed,” I reply, throwing my arms up in the air.

“Wait,” he tugs on my sleeve, and I shrug a little, knowing he just got more egg onto me.

I turn to him.

“Aren’t you going to give me a goodnight kiss?” he offers, wiggling an eyebrow, and I cringe, tilting my head up and backward.

“Yeah, right,” I say, sticking my tongue out at him, “you might be immune to whatever the hell is in those eggs, but I sure as hell am not taking my chances. You’re disgusting.”

He laughs again, a sound far too much like music, and instead of making a bee-line for the door, I walk over to the fridge, pulling it open and moving stuff around for a moment. Wrapped up in a little container is remnants of some kind of bargain-brand Spaghetti-O’s, covered in stale fried onions. I pull it out, examining it for a second.

“Okay, I’m disgusting?” Karkat prods my side, “what the fuck is that, then?”

“ _My_ midnight snack, eggman,” I reply, starting to peel off of the plastic.

“I have a proposition,” Karkat says hurriedly, before I can finish pulling off the plastic wrap, and I turn to look at him.

“And that is?”

“I’m guessing the reason you’re out here is because you can’t sleep, and I sure as hell can’t, either. You put away that … monstrosity, and I’ll go brush my teeth and wash my hands, and then we can watch a movie.”

“Are you brushing your teeth so we can make out?” I ask.

“No, it’s so I can get the fresh taste of the eggs again,” he responds, hitting my arm, “why the fuck else, you self-flagellating piece of horse shit?”

I slip the plastic back over the Spaghetti-O’s, opening the fridge and pushing them back inside.

“Deal,” I say, “I’ll go put in _Titanic_.”

“Fuck you, we’re not making out during _Titanic_. Put in something shitty.”

“I –”

“Don’t even fucking suggest _Titanic_ is shitty, or I’ll shove an egg in your mouth.”

“Noted,” I nod, patting his shoulder, “I’ll go put on a shit action movie.”

“There we go,” Karkat turns, heading for his room, and I watch him leave. When he’s gone – and I can only hear the sound of him shuffling down the hall, I stall for a moment, just thinking.

He’s the weirdest guy I’ve ever met, probably, but god am I lucky to have him. Feeling a warmth in my chest, I let a small smile spread across my face. This is good. There’s not a whole lot of good left, but he’s good – and he’s _my_ good. I can only hope I’m his good, too.

I stretch, moving out of the kitchen and turning off the light. After all, the quicker I get the movie in, the quicker I can get my lips on Karkat – and my arms around him.

Yeah. _Good_. All good. Only good.


End file.
